


Rules of Engagement

by wocket



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Oral Sex, Prison, Prison Sex, TV News
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wocket/pseuds/wocket
Summary: Eric Harris is a camera op working for a local news station in Denver. America's most high-profile prisoner is located in a federal prison a few miles away. When Eric's station lands a series of interviews with Timothy McVeigh, Eric must deal with a dangerously unexpected attraction.
Relationships: Tim McVeigh/Eric Harris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Rules of Engagement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirtybandaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtybandaid/gifts).



This story is different. 

Eric won’t admit it, but he cares about this one. He’s got a personal interest, and he knows a thing or two about the subject. 

His new assignment? A series of interviews with Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber.

For the last few years, Eric’s been working as a camera operator for KMGH in Denver after his video teacher from Columbine put in a good word for him at the station. Most of the time Eric gets hokey assignments, stupid human interest stories that are total bullshit. The stringers capture most of the cool footage for breaking news segments anyway. _Fucking freelancers_ , Eric rants in his head. Anything for ratings.

Eric isn’t exactly a _fan_ of McVeigh’s - that’s not quite right - but he’s into this story, at least more than the rest. He’s been following the case since the day of the bombing, but especially after America’s most high-profile criminal was transferred to Federal Correctional Institution (FCI) Englewood during Eric’s freshman year at Columbine, a mere ten minutes away. Eric has a certain level of respect for his work (well, maybe “his work” isn’t the best term for it). He possesses a certain appreciation for McVeigh’s ability to execute his plan and torch and level everything, essentially. Eric views him as a real American.

Eric obsesses over the details as he has over the last few years. Is he really getting the chance to be in a room with Timothy McVeigh?

Eric’s only been in jail one time, after being arrested in his junior year for breaking into a van. The constant screech of alarms and slamming doors and gates are an unpleasant reminder of an incident he’d rather forget. Every noise sets him on edge, every scrape and clink sends something crawling up his spine. He can’t imagine being here all the time. Things seem infinitely worse in federal prison.

Eric and the reporter from the station are led down a long hallway, constantly accompanied by an armed guard, led to an empty room within the prison where each interview will take place.

A moment later, another guard appears with Prisoner #12076-064 — Timothy McVeigh.

Eric takes a good look. His sharp blue eyes are the first thing he notices, and how tall he is - he’s taller than Eric thought he would be. The man is thin and still wears a cropped haircut, a remnant of his time in the military, no doubt. He’s not bad-looking, less angry than he seems in all the photographs, and he appears to be holding up okay in prison.

The guard uncuffs McVeigh’s hands. After greeting the reporter, Timothy offers his hand for Eric to shake. Eric looks at it with surprise. He hadn’t expected for McVeigh to shake his hand. He wipes his palm on his jeans hoping the man won’t notice and grasps his hand. His grip is firm.

The reporter from KMGH runs through a pretty standard series of questions, nothing hard-hitting. Despite the reporter’s critical inability, Tim seems educated and well-spoken, coming across as intelligent. He’s good-natured despite his situation. When the cameras are off, he’s even kind of funny.

Eric comes to think of him as “Tim” instead of Timothy McVeigh. America’s labeled him a monster, but Eric can’t see it.

*

The next interview leaves Eric feeling more like a voyeur than he ever has in his life. Eric is a little unnerved at the way Tim seems to stare through him as he zooms in on Tim’s eyes to focus. It shouldn’t unnerve him. It’s his fuckin’ job to look. It’s not supposed to be thrilling. Pleasurable.

Tim starts doing what Eric can only describe as “making eyes” at him from across the room. When the reporter’s back is turned, he even teases Eric with an unmistakable wink.

It’s bold. It’s flirtatious. It’s fucking ludicrous.

 _Goddamn_ , Eric thinks to himself when the cameras start rolling again. There’s something in the air that almost feels _electric_ , something Eric can’t put his finger on.

Eric’s not gay; he’s never really been considered being with a guy before. So he’s taken aback when he pops a boner in the middle of filming the segment. _Shit_ , Eric thinks, praying that Tim doesn’t notice. Tim is talking about killing 168 people; Eric’s dick shouldn’t be hard.

After another painful ten minutes, the reporter wraps up the interview. 

_Thank fuck._ Eric grabs his bottle of water, chugging a third of it and setting it back down. He feels hot, like he might start sweating despite the moderate temperature.

“You mind?” Eric looks up at the question. Tim is speaking to him. He repeats himself at Eric’s bewildered look. “You mind?” Tim gestures to Eric’s water bottle.

Eric realizes that while he and the reporter both have drinks, there’s nothing for Tim.

“Uh, yeah. Go ahead.” Eric hands it over, watching Tim’s long fingers as he twists the cap off the bottle and holds it to his mouth, lips closing over it. Eric can’t look away from the elongated column of his throat as he swallows.

“Thanks,” Tim makes a point of saying. He hands the water bottle back to Eric, who makes a mental note to keep it.

Eric realizes that Tim is paying attention to him and totally ignoring the reporter, who seems to be making a few notes on his steno pad and totally ignoring the other two men. The reporter finally looks up. “Okay. That’s it for today.”

The reporter and Tim stand to bid each other farewell, and the reporter leaves while Eric is packing up his equipment. Eric squats for a moment to stow his camera in his bag.

“I’ve got an idea for something else you can do while you’re down there,” Tim smirks above him.

Eric stands up straight. _What the fuck?_ Did Tim really say that? Was he imagining things?

“Blow me,” Eric retorts. 

“I bet you’d like that,” Tim replies smoothly. “You think I didn’t notice?” Tim asks. “Your boss might not have any clue but it was obvious to me.”

“He’s not my boss,” Eric retorts. “Anyway, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“I saw the way you were looking at me.”

“I’m a camera op. It is literally my job to look at your stupid fucking face,” Eric spits, wondering for a second if he’s taken it too far.

Tim just smiles, amused by Eric’s defensive reaction.

“And what’d you think?”

Eric steals a glance at the guard. He doesn’t seem to care that the context of their conversation is taking place outside of the agreed upon terms; in fact, he looks bored.

“About the interview or your face?”

“Either.”

Eric takes a chance on the truth. “It’s the same old shit as before.”

“I hope you mean the interview.”

“Obviously.”

“And what would you have asked?” Tim asks, stepping into Eric’s space.

“I don’t think my question would be appropriate for an interview,” Eric states.

Arms crossed over his chest, Tim gives him a smug smile. “Why don’t you ask me anyway?”

Eric leans in too, partly to hide his words from the guard. He knows now for sure that he feels it, that alluring spark of electricity growing brighter between the two.

“Do you taste as good as you look?”

Tim grins like the devil. He leans close to the younger man, his warm breath tickling Eric’s skin. Tim’s lips just barely brushing the curve of Eric’s ear as he speaks. “Why don’t you find out?” 

“How?” Eric pulls back, pulled out of the fantasy, looking consciously to the guard. Tim’s words seem like a cruel trick.

“Do you trust me?”

It’s a heavy question. Eric isn’t sure how to answer at first. Looking Tim up and down, he finds he has no reason not to trust the man. So he tells him so, and his answer seems to satisfy Tim.

“Good. Can you get cash?” 

Eric nods. 

“Four, five hundred bucks?” 

Eric nods again, still not sure what the game is here. “Tim —”

“I’ll take care of it,” Tim promises. “Just… be ready next time.”

 _Be ready?_ Ready for _what_ , Eric isn’t exactly sure, but he is impossibly turned on by the possibilities.

*

Two interviews down, two to go.

Tim arranges everything with the prison staff, insisting on speaking to the guard himself. Everything will happen after the next taping, like it’s been _scheduled_. All Eric has to do is bring the cash. 

Eric takes deep breaths, trying to focus on his job and on the plan. Trying to act normal. There’s a couple hundred dollars in cash burning a hole in his pocket during the interview.

The reporter finally wraps things up. Eric dawdles purposely as he packs up his equipment, waiting for the reporter to exit first. 

It’s time.

Eric pulls out the wad of cash and hands the guard five one-hundred dollar bills. The guard folds them and stuffs them in his pocket.

“That’ll buy you some time,” the guard explains, “but if you want me to keep my mouth shut, it’s going to take a little more.”

Eric narrows his eyes and fishes out another hundred dollar bill from his wallet.

The guard accepts the extra money and closes the door behind him. It shuts with a heavy thud, leaving the two men alone for the first time.

“You look scared,” Tim says, with a hint of a smile.

“Fuck you,” Eric spits.

“About that.”

Eric becomes acutely aware of how empty the room is. He doesn’t think Tim would attack him. That’s not his MO, although he would certainly know how to fight after his stint in the Army.

Eric licks his lips.

Tim moves closer. He brings his hand up to Eric’s face. 

Eric flinches at first, but Tim just runs his thumb over Eric’s lower lip. Eric’s tongue darts out, the tip just barely touching Tim’s finger. Tim presses his thumb down a little harder, and when Eric doesn’t resist, he slips it into Eric’s mouth. 

Eric sucks on Tim’s thumb obediently, chasing it with his tongue. He can feel heat rising in his body.

After a moment, Tim pulls his hand away, still studying Eric like a specimen.

Eric looks back into Tim’s blue eyes, afraid to move. Tim’s the one that closes the distance between them, bringing his hand back up to Eric’s cheek and pulling him into a kiss. It’s chaste at first, until Eric warms up and opens his mouth for Tim. 

Eric isn’t short by any standard, but he still has to lean up to reach Tim for the kiss. Tim is about as tall as Dylan, maybe taller. He can’t tell, and there are more pressing matters on his mind.

Eric starts to get into it, licking into Tim’s mouth, taking the kiss from chaste to filthy. He gets his hands in Tim’s prison-issue khakis, feeling like an overeager puppy when Tim has to put a hand on his shoulder to slow him down.

“This is fun, but we don’t have a lot of time,” Tim reminds him.

“Fuck. Yeah, of course,” Eric agrees. Eric drops to his knees, and his heart drops even lower. _This is happening… this is fucking happening…_

Tim’s hand caresses the back of Eric’s head, fingers brushing through the short hair. It’s almost gentle, but then he pushes Eric’s head into his crotch, where Eric can feel an obvious erection.

“This what you want?” Tim asks with a dirty smile.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Eric answers, feeling simultaneously humiliated and turned on.

Tim pushes his khakis down his hips. His cock is slim but long, impressive as it fills out, and Eric almost thinks about backing down and saying he can’t do this. Then he reminds himself he’s touching _Tim McVeigh_ and he stays put.

Eric wets his lips and leans forward, tastes him. Everything about Tim is like an assault on his senses. 

Eric explores him with his tongue before opening his mouth wider, making such an honest effort that Tim hopefully won’t realize how inexperienced he is at this.

“Yes,” Tim appreciates, voice clear even though Eric has his dick in his mouth. “You know how to make it good, don’t you?”

Eric doesn’t, not really, but he’s glad whatever he’s doing is working for Tim. He feels like a slut, letting Tim use his mouth and his body, but it feels _so damn good_.

Eric reaches down surreptitiously, trying to hide his movement as he adjusts the boner in his jeans. He doesn’t want Tim to see it, doesn’t want the older man to know how fucking turned on he is while on his knees on a cold prison floor.

Tim’s got eagle eyes, though, and his dick gives an interested twitch when Eric touches himself. “You can touch yourself,” Tim tells him. “That’s… it’s good,” he comments vaguely.

Eric doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls off Tim’s dick for a moment to focus on unzipping his pants and pulling his own dick out, giving his aching flesh some attention.

Eric looks up and Tim is staring down at him, eyes intense. Tim watches him jerk off, but Eric can’t stand the attention, can’t deal with the focus being on him. So he steadies himself, leans back in and puts his mouth on Tim’s dick again, determined to impress him and make it feel good. He moves eagerly, trying to do the things that he would like, hand moving over his own cock as he tries to give Tim the best fucking blowjob of his life.

Tim keeps his voice down but tries to hide the contented little noises that he makes, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The sounds encourage Eric, and urge him onward. Stubbornly resolved to please, he takes him down all the way, lips stretched wide over Tim’s cock.

Eric’s ashamed to admit he likes this more than he expected. Tim’s not pushy the way Eric thought he might be; on the contrary, he lets Eric lead the show and follows the pace he sets. _It’s not about force_ , Eric realizes philosophically. If it was, Tim could get what he needs inside these walls.

 _Fuck, that idea is even hotter,_ Eric realizes, the thought that Tim might really want Eric. Caught up in the moment, Eric braces his hands on Tim’s thighs. He slides his palms higher under the guise of gripping him for balance, though he’s just copping a feel. 

Eric licks and sucks at Tim’s cock, trying to make it sloppy like the chicks do in porn.

Eric attempts to pick up speed, mouthing at Tim’s cock, and the movement is fast. Tim’s hand comes up naturally in response, searching for purchase somewhere on Eric’s body. His hand settles at the juncture between Eric’s neck and shoulder, guiding without any insistence.

Eric feels Tim’s thighs tense underneath his palms. A moment later Tim’s thumb is digging into the soft part of his neck and Eric senses he must be about to lose it.

He’s right - knuckles clenched, Tim spills his seed down Eric’s throat a few seconds later. The man might be conscious of his body language, but even Tim can’t hide the gasp he draws in sharply as he comes.

Eric wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up. His jeans are still unzipped. Embarrassed, he reaches down to zip them up but to his surprise Tim bumps his hand out of the way and takes his achingly hard dick in his fist in one fluid motion. 

Eric sucks in a sharp breath. He didn’t expect Tim to want this. Looking up at Tim’s face, Eric is struck for the first time how blue his eyes are. They’re so intense. They’ve always been that way, but right now? They’re brilliant, and they’re fixed on Eric.

“For me?” Tim asks slyly, his long fingers wrapping around Eric’s erection.

“Fuck yes,” Eric admits, face heating up.

Tim jacks him off with a painful slowness, deliberately trying to rile him up.

“What is it? Is it actually me?” Tim asks intently, breath heavy on Eric’s neck. “Or what I did?” His hand moves over Eric’s flesh skillfully. “Or do you just have a thing for getting off with guys in prison?”

Eric flushes. Despite being the camera op for the interviews, he feels like he’s the one being studied under a lens. “I —”

Tim leans in and kisses him, doesn’t make him finish. “You don’t have to answer that,” he smirks, free hand wandering up and down Eric’s side.

Tim works his fist harder, watching Eric’s face for a reaction. “You close?” Tim asks, mouth close to Eric’s jaw, watching his face contort in pleasure as he throbs in his hand.

“Fuck,” Eric curses. “Yeah.”

Tim drops to his knees in one swift move, taking Eric in his mouth. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect and Eric doesn’t last long, and _holy shit_ , he’s spilling down Tim McVeigh’s throat. Trying not to reach for Tim, he digs his fingernails into his thighs as Tim sucks down every last drop.

Tim looks up at Eric and shrugs. “No evidence,” he remarks sensibly.

“Right.” Eric holds his arm out for Tim to take, helping him back up. Once Tim is on his feet Eric zips up his pants.

Tim tilts Eric’s chin up and kisses him again, slow but thorough. This wasn’t part of the fantasy but Eric finds he likes it. Surprisingly, Tim’s a pretty good kisser, and Eric finds himself getting swept away in it.

Eric reaches for Tim’s wrist, backing off when Tim winces into the kiss. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong - but then he watches Tim gingerly touch his the inside of his forearm. Eric notices it then, a raw, red line that runs around his slender wrist where the cuffs have been digging into his skin.

Tim drops his hands back at his sides when he sees Eric is studying his actions intently, appearing to punish himself for showing a moment of weakness.

Eric decides to kiss Tim again, tries not to let Tim see him looking. In the middle of the kiss, the timer on Eric’s wristwatch beeps. “Time’s up,” Eric says, defeated. 

Resigned, they pull apart.

Tim sits back down in his chair, looking like nothing ever happened. Eric knows he looks disheveled and he feels irreconcilably mussed up.

The guard returns to the room a few moments after the timer goes off. Eric avoids the guard’s disapproving glare and slings his camera bag over his shoulder.

“See ya,” Tim grins.

Eric doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything at all.

*

Eric doesn’t keep a calendar, but he’s acutely aware of the next interview with Tim. It’s the last one.

To Eric’s disappointment, the reporter doesn’t ask anything new. It’s the same tired shit that’s been making headlines for months now. Eric is almost glad when the reporter finishes asking questions, until he remembers that there’ll be no reason to be here anymore.

Eric turns the camera off for the last time.

“Hurry it up, Harris. We’re on a deadline.”

“Aw shit,” Eric says. “I can’t find my lens cap.” He pretends to dig through his pockets, looking around the room. “Why don’t you go ahead?” Eric tells the reporter. “I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“All right. Just make sure you get that footage to the station as soon as you can, okay?”

Just like that, they’re alone.

“Asshole,” Eric grumbles under his breath.

“Smooth,” Tim comments, leaning back in his chair.

“So,” Eric starts. “This is it.”

“This is it.”

The air feels heavy.

Eric’s not sure what he can say with the guard lurking in the doorway, and stoic Tim offers nothing else.

“I could visit,” Eric offers, hands in his pockets.

“You know why you can’t do that.”

Of course Tim would say that. Eric understands why, but it kind of hurts to hear. Eric tries to erase the reaction on his face. “Yeah. Of course,” he manages to say.

Eric stoops to the floor in another attempt to hide his emotions. He places the lens cap back on the camera, hefting his camera bag over his shoulder. 

_So that’s it, then._

“Eric.” Tim stops him before he goes.

Eric turns around, sees Tim’s hand outstretched before him. Eric takes it, palms warm where they’re clasped together. It’s close to a real handshake, though it’s something else entirely — a touch to remember.

Eric pauses in the doorway, taking one final look at Tim. Their eyes lock across the room, and both of them know it will be for the last time.


End file.
